


Blue In Green

by prunesquallormd



Series: Giving up these kisses [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-27
Updated: 2009-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prunesquallormd/pseuds/prunesquallormd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marry me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue In Green

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired initially by [](http://lareinemisere.livejournal.com/profile)[**lareinemisere**](http://lareinemisere.livejournal.com/)'s prompt "Marry me!". The drabble that currently exists only in my head for this same prompt is entirely different, but this was far more fun.

_**Fic - Blue in Green**_  
Title: Blue In Green  
(Part 1 of Giving Up Theses Kisses)  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Pairing(s): Luna/Ginny  
Rating: NC-17 (Well, there's smut, although not really a whole lot. Let's just say that there's as much smut as I'm comfortable posting to a place where people who actually know me can read it. Also, I'm apparently entirely convinced that, outside of a PG environment, Ginny swears like a trooper. I can't be the only one, right?)  
Summary: Marry me!  
Word count: 3400  
Warnings: Basically just fluff, with some angst and a little smut thrown in. Rather silly and pointless really, but I hope it is at least sort of cute  
Disclaimer: Obviously all the characters and pretty much everything else belong to JK Rowling. This is just for fun!

Author's Notes: This was inspired initially by [](http://lareinemisere.livejournal.com/profile)[**lareinemisere**](http://lareinemisere.livejournal.com/) 's prompt "Marry me!". The drabble that currently exists only in my head for this same prompt is entirely different, but this was far more fun.  
I had Miles Davis's "Kind of Blue" playing on repeat most of the time I was writing this and the various moods of that album shaped the mood and tone of it considerably. I stole the title from my favourite track (which is utterly beautiful - it's [here](http://www.box.net/shared/j8e8qdjqj1). Give it a listen and if you like it buy the album. There's a reason it's a classic.) and the opening lyrics were written to that piece although they're not actually on the album so I've no idea who to credit (they turned up in an google trawl).

This is my first completed, decent length short story in _ages_ and it took me forever. By the time it reached the end I'm rather afraid it had lost any impetus it may have had at the beginning; I've read it back and tweaked it so much that I can't tell if it's any good, so any and all constructive criticism is welcome.

This is for [](http://lareinemisere.livejournal.com/profile)[**lareinemisere**](http://lareinemisere.livejournal.com/) , for the prompt and [](http://zagury.livejournal.com/profile)[**zagury**](http://zagury.livejournal.com/) , for introducing me to the pairing. I hope I haven't messed with your OTP too much :)

  
Blue In Green

 _Hues of blues and greens surround me  
knowing you have found another love  
has turned my world  
to sorrow_

 _Green with envy for another  
fearing she may be the one to soar  
through life with you, can't lose these_

 _Hues of blues in green_

 __

 _Ginny remembers._

They're lying, crown to crown, red hair tangled in blonde. The June sun westers, shadows lengthen, but it's still warm, balmy even.

A few hundred yards away the Forbidden Forest looms.

Luna had wanted to go closer. She likes the forest, and besides, she's not afraid of anything - and Ginny can never tell if it's something missing in her (like colour blindness maybe), or whether her view of the world is so _other_ that there really is nothing to fear.

It's one of the things that Ginny loves about her. Ginny, who is brave, strong-willed, “fearless” even, and yet still so fearful. Just because she hides it doesn't mean she isn't afraid. Now especially; the war is so close she can feel it, almost see the clouds gather, taste ozone in the scorched air.

And Luna shows no fear. Sighing happily, she reaches out, takes Ginny's wrist. Despite the awkwardness of the position, she draws Ginny's hand to her mouth; kisses her palm.  
“They'll be back soon,” she says in that sing-song voice of hers – it's a voice that can make the most mundane things sound beautiful, and Ginny has never told Luna exactly what it does to her, although she's had occasion to find out. “They'll be back and everything will be all right.”

She sounds like she believes it, too. Of course she believes it.

It's not enough for Ginny, though; Ginny, guilty, afraid, heart tugging in two directions. And the worst of it – the worst of it is that small part of her that thinks “If he doesn't come back, I won't have to choose.”

And so, crown to crown with Luna, bathed in the warmth of the evening sun, she battles her fear and her guilt. The tears, when they come, are silent and short-lived. Her pride won't allow them to be anything else.

  
 _Ginny remembers._

The sun is long gone, but the moon – huge and magnesium bright – bathes them just as fully, and Ginny is sure that Luna feels warmed by it. She probably believes it would tan like no sun ever could [Luna whose reaction to excessive sunlight is second only to Ginny's].

Ginny's eyes – puffy and sore – are closed. [It isn't the first time she's cried recently; it won't be the last either.] Luna is as stealthy as the Nargles she so often talks of, but Ginny feels her movements. She still holds her hand, but the warmth of her scalp vanishes, to be replaced by lips – equally warm, immeasurably more soft, kissing her eyes open before pressing to her mouth.  
And for all the things that Luna's voice does to Ginny, they're nothing compared to what those lips do.

Luna so often seems not entirely present – as if being attached to an actual physical body is just an amusing, and occasionally baffling, necessity – that Ginny had been surprised at how there she is when she kisses. It's one of the few things she does that isn't _dreamy_ or _languid_. Not rough, not bruising, but utterly focussed: greedy lips, nibbling teeth, playful tongue that swipes and dances. Luna's kisses brook no argument; demand that Ginny's body responds. Ginny has yet to disappoint her.

Ginny stretches beneath her, her breath quickening as she circles Luna's waist with her arms, pulling her closer. Luna hums contentedly into the kiss, nips at Ginny's lower lip. She tangles her left hand in Ginny's hair, pulling slightly, forcing her head backwards to expose the length of her neck. She plants tiny butterfly kisses along her jaw line before moving her attention to her throat, licking and nibbling as she goes.

Ginny's gasp, a barely audible “Oh”, escapes her lips as Luna's other hand presses itself between their bodies, finds its way to the hem of her top, nails raking across the taught skin of her belly. She briefly dips a finger into Ginny's navel before circling it – once, twice, three times. Ginny whimpers and shakes her head, and Luna stops instantly. She raises her head, looking Ginny in the eyes, silvery grey meeting brown questioningly.

“Ginny?”

Ginny's eyes are unfocussed; she seems confused by the question, takes a couple of seconds to respond.

“Why have you stopped?” She can hardly get the words out, and god, is this all it takes to unravel her so completely? Heavy petting and those quick, knowing fingers? “Don't you dare stop.”

Luna's lips quirk slightly, and she chuckles, raising a hand to brush Ginny's hair from her eyes.

“You're sure?”

Ginny's eyes snap back into focus and she glares for a moment at the girl hovering above her.

“What the fuck, Luna? Are you _trying_ to drive me insane?” It's a momentary flare-up that vanishes when Luna's chuckle returns, bells ringing in the night air. Brown eyes remain fixed on silver-grey ones though; wide, feverish but with the slightest hint of a challenge. Ginny doesn't appreciate being teased, certainly not when Luna's finger nails are gently, so gently, tracing a line from her navel to a point just below her chest and back again.

Luna's smile is radiant as she leans forward once more, crushing her mouth to Ginny's as her right hand finally begins its journey down her body. Ginny strains to meet it, but Luna's weight pins her in place, won't allow her to move as she fumbles at the buttons of Ginny's jeans. After what seems an age, she feels fingers rubbing at the material of her knickers and another sigh escapes her, one that derails into a moan as the elastic is pulled aside and eager fingers meet equally eager flesh, stroking firmly, dipping, curling.

They both know ways to deaden the sounds that follow, have used them often enough in places less secluded than this, but there is nothing that Luna loves more than the uncontrolled – and _loud_ \- noises that Ginny makes beneath her. She has stopped kissing her now, just so she can watch her eyes roll back in their sockets, hear her moans and screams unmuffled.

Ginny breaks under Luna's hand, her name on her lips. It's the most wonderful thing that Luna has ever heard.

  
 _Ginny remembers._

“Marry me”.

Ginny has barely recovered her breath; feels like it will be a long time before she'll be steady on her feet. She looks up at Luna, gently illuminated, seeming almost to shine with her own light. She's sucking her fingers, one by one, and Ginny thinks that it’s probably the filthiest thing ever.

Ginny giggles and reaches for Luna's hand, pulling it from her mouth and towards her own. She swirls her tongue around each finger in turn, humming happily to herself.

She doesn't answer Luna's – well, it wasn't really a question was it? She couldn't be serious? Luna pulls her hand away, turns Ginny's face towards hers with wet fingers. There is none of the quizzical sweetness there that Ginny is used to seeing. She is smiling and yet utterly serious.

“I mean it. I love you. I'll always love you. Marry me. Tonight.”

“Geez, Lu. You don't think that's a bit quick, do you? There's dresses to make, invitations to send. People like _some_ notice”. Ginny’s tone is light but she’s floundering. Her heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest. It can't contain the mess of emotions that she feels: confusion, happiness, guilt, fear.

And love. She can't understand how loving someone this much doesn't make it easier.

She sees a flicker of pain in Luna's eyes. At her response, at the one thing she could have said but didn't. She can't bear it.

It's just a flicker though, gone as quickly as it came. Holding Ginny's eyes, Luna reaches into her bag and pulls out, what is it? A ring? Yes, a ring. A red band – stone or metal or even plastic, Ginny can't tell – in which is set a flower, all pale red and orange and yellow (certainly plastic, if Ginny's any judge at all). If Ginny put it on it would cover almost her whole hand. Ginny has never seen anything more ridiculous.

Luna says nothing else, just reaches for Ginny's hand. Ginny worries for a moment that her heart might actually burst.

She lets Luna lift her hand, put the ring on her finger.

“Oh, Lu.”

But Luna puts a finger to Ginny’s lips, smiles that smile, of such _knowing_ innocence, such warmth. Ginny doesn't know how to deny that smile, how to stay sad in its light. The ache in her heart dissolves, and her doubts? She knows they were there, but for the moment at least there's no room in her for anything that isn't Luna.

Luna knows she has her answer. She turns, hooking up her own bag and Ginny's, and pulls her companion back towards the castle. It's so far past curfew that they'd be as well to find somewhere else to sleep – they have done often enough in the past – but Luna has something else in mind.

Ginny shivers; the warmth of the day is long forgotten, but it's not _just_ the cold. She's a writhing mass of conflicting emotion – has been for as long as she can remember, that's the truth of it – and tonight, finally, she has relinquished control to another. She doesn't have to lock herself down any more, and it feels _good_.

She laughs. It's a thing of beauty: musical and sweet, but edged and layered with brightness and strength. It echoes through corridors of cold stone, and at any other time Ginny would have been concerned with the whereabouts of a certain cantankerous and vengeful caretaker, and any number of other dangers that the night-side of the castle presented. She doesn't care tonight though. She's young and happy and, if being in love has proven to be so much more complicated, and painful, than she has ever dreamed, still she can't regret how she feels.

Barefoot, shoes in hands, Luna and Ginny half run, half skip – whispering, giggling, outright laughing - down endless corridors, up endless flights of stairs.

“Where the hell are taking me, you madwoman?” Ginny gasps, at the top of the fifth staircase. [She only managed most of that flight because Luna had physically dragged her up it. And here's another thing about her, she never seems to tire; it's probably the most uncanny thing about Luna, and it's not really as if Ginny isn't somewhat used to _uncanny_ ].

Luna smirks at her; she actually _smirks_ , which isn't an expression that Ginny has ever expected to see on Luna's face.

“Well, I could tell you, but surprises are so much more fun.” She's not even breathless, and how is that possible?

Ginny straightens, her breathing slower now but still heavy. She raises an eyebrow at Luna - rather glad now for the hours she spent in front of a mirror to master that little trick – and fixes her with a stare that could have been called steely were she not licking her lips in that precise way.

“Surprises? Well if it's surprises you want.”

They're only separated by a couple of feet, but Luna is farther from the wall of the corridor than Ginny, so it's not a simple matter. Still, Ginny is delighted with herself when she feels Luna stiffen and gasp slightly as she backs her into the wall, hands on her shoulders. Her lips on Luna's are insistent; she nips on Luna's lower lip, silently requesting entry. Her acquiescence comes quickly and Ginny chooses to take it as a more general invitation. Her right hand is quick, almost desperate, as it navigates its way down Luna's body, pausing at the waist-band of her jeans; her body is attempting to eliminate even the slightest space between them.

It's not in Ginny to take without giving, and she has unfinished business to attend to.

But Luna's hand clutches at her wrist; she groans into her mouth. And it's not a moan of desire so much as a gasp of horror. Ginny unlocks her lips from Luna's, pulling back and looking quizzically at her. There is a look of panic in Luna's eyes that cuts her to the quick.

“Hey, I thought you _liked_ surprises.”

A _snicker_ from somewhere behind her is the only answer she needs to her unasked question. It's an answer she would have given anything not to hear.

“Oh. Fuck.”

Luna's eyes are closed now, as if she can't bear to look at the expression of the man standing behind Ginny. Ginny takes a step back, straightens her shoulders and draws herself up to her full, not so impressive, height. She turns on her heel, shielding Luna as best she can from view.

Ginny hadn't thought that it was possible for Filch to look more repugnant. The look on his face now though – undisguised lust mixed with total hatred – shows her exactly how wrong it’s possible to be. Her temper flares for the second time that day, and this time the outcome is unlikely to be quite so pleasant. She decides to brazen it out. What do they have to lose?

“What the fuck do you want, Filch, you fucking pervert? Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to creep up on people?” She doesn't need to feign outrage. It bubbles up from her gut, fills her mouth with bile.

She feels Luna relax slightly behind her, chuckle quietly. She knows that Filch can too easily call her bluff but she has given Luna a chance to collect herself, gather her dignity around her. It's something; the most important thing.

Luna steps from behind Ginny now, smiles her miraculous smile. Ginny doesn't understand how she can display such warmth in the presence of someone so foul.

The effect is remarkable. Perhaps he is thrown by the juxtaposition of Luna's smile with Ginny's open aggression, but he drops his eyes to the floor, reddens, shuffles backwards. But he has one trump card. He knows he's in the right.

“Sorry ladies, but I'm going to have to take you to the headmaster. You know you shouldn't be out of bed at this time of night.”

His tone is not at all apologetic, though, and Ginny is sure that she sees the shadow of a sneer on his face.

The knowledge that he has even the slightest power over them, this vile little man, bothers her so much more than the thought of having to explain themselves to Snape. A midnight interview with the headmaster she can deal with but not like this, not trailing behind Filch with their tails between their legs.

Really, fuck that.

She curses herself for having dropped her bag [and she knows by now that she should keep her wand in easy reach all the time, but just this once her hormones had clearly had other things on their mind]. She begins to edge slowly towards it, takes a sharp breath, casting desperately for that killing blow, the verbal barb that that will so debilitate him that the charm she has planned will be more for her own satisfaction than out of any real necessity. But for once it doesn't come, and for the second time that night she is left floundering. She opens her mouth, willing the words to come, and as she does so Luna steps forward. Ginny has no idea what Luna has in mind; she never really could read Luna, thinks of her as her own little mystery. It doesn't matter now though. Whether she intends it or not, Luna has provided all the distraction that Ginny needs. She steps backwards until she is hard against the wall, bends down, reaches for her bag, all the time staring at Luna's back and the caretaker in front of her.

She grabs her wand, flipping it over as she straightens up. And freezes, horrified, as Luna stands on tiptoes, her hands on Filch's shoulders, to whisper in his ear. His colour, already high, would do a beetroot justice now, and when she kisses him, Ginny is certain for a moment that he's going to pass out. She winces, feeling almost personally violated. Her wand twitches in her hand, itching to take out her outrage on Filch in the most violent manner she can manage.

Luna is still on her toes, her cheek almost brushing Filch's as she continues speaking. Ginny forces herself to take several deep breaths; she trusts Luna, is sure she knows what she's doing. Calmer now she looks more closely at the man before her, sees the mask drop. She sees, for the first time, past the bitterness, the disappointment, the anger and resentment. And Filch smiles. He roughly wipes his eyes, not quickly enough to obscure the tears that have gathered there.

“Well, go on then,” he says, his voice gruff but, almost, affectionate. “Get to your beds. The headmaster'll have my hide if he hears about this.”

Luna kisses his cheek one more time and steps back, whispers “Thank you”.

Filch's smile widens; he tries to hide it in a cough. “Ach, be off with you.”

He turns, walks away without looking back, but Ginny would swear that he is, very quietly, whistling to himself.

She looks at Luna, her eyebrows so high they almost reach her hairline, and for the third time that night, words fail her.

“Wh?” She takes a breath, tries again. “How did you do that? What did you say to him?”

Luna smiles, shakes her head; for the briefest moment there is sadness in her eyes.

“He's lonely. He doesn't deserve to be. No one deserves to be.”

This time, as she gathers Luna to her, hugs her for all that she's worth, Ginny is certain her heart will burst. She's amazed, a couple of minutes later, to discover that she's still conscious, still standing.  
They separate and Luna reaches up, tweaks her nose.

“Come on, you. We'll be late.”

Ginny knows there's no point in asking again, has decided that she's rather enjoying this ride. After all, surprises _are_ so much more fun.

Another flight of stairs, and another. They're on the seventh floor now and realisation slowly begins to dawn on Ginny. And with it, a second realisation. She couldn't say how long they've been there, couldn't even begin to understand how she could have failed to notice them before but,

“Church bells. How on earth?”

Luna just winks at her as they come to a sudden stop, beside that bloody stupid tapestry. Ballet dancing trolls, indeed. What the hell was he thinking?

The door in front of them is huge, double-leaved, a simple pointed arch. It resembles nothing so much as the door to a church. Luna reaches for both handles, opens both sides wide, offers Ginny her arm and, when Ginny takes it , she leads her, laughing, with tears in her eyes, into the brightness and warmth of a summer's day.

 _Ginny watches._

 _Harry's face is serene in the moonlight. Ginny knows his features so well that she doesn't need to look, not really, and anyway she can hardly see through her tears. She hears Albus whimpering through the wall – a nightmare probably – and she gets up to check on him, reaching almost unconsciously for her phone. She speed dials 3 as she pulls on her dressing gown and pads into Albus's room. The answer isn't long in coming, and even now her heart beats out of her chest at the sound of her voice._

 _“Luna?”_


End file.
